Jocko Willink and David Goggins versus Leo Tolstoy, Ernest Hemingway and Hayden Carruth

Posted in Pretensions toward cultural theory, Real Men with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 2, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

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I just can’t come to a place of peace with either Jocko Willink or David Goggins. Continue reading

Shades of Lust and Hate, and Fear, and Love, and Grief

Posted in poetry, sonnet with tags on June 8, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

 

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I woke beneath a wringing sheet last night

To phantom figures cast on midnight screens

They rose in opalescent sheets of light

Their trains were wet with rot from loathsome dreams

 

Morbid lights crept over the planes of flesh

That spun across those shifting, spectral screens

Sharp white incisors rhymed with stark white eyes

As invective rose like bile behind my teeth

 

Hopes and promises turned to screams and cries

Violence sticky with the shame beneath  

Powerless I lay to efface those shades

Of lust and hate, and fear, and love, and grief

 

Sunrise finds me bound with the shameful tie

That I can neither break nor can deny.

Casey Calvert: Pain Slut

Posted in Pornography, Pretensions toward cultural theory with tags , , , , , , on May 28, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

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As you are by now painfully aware, there two kinds of people in quarantine: the single and the partnered. I fall into the former category and as a result, find myself spending no small volume of time in the company of the very gorgeous Asa Akira. Continue reading

(I think) She Might Be Crying

Posted in poetry, sonnet with tags , on April 28, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

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The floor to ceiling hotel window is

A lidless, depthless, staring midnight eye

The bed’s reflection breaks along its gaze

Sheets rolling in a long, disordered line

 

Face down, the weave of hair conceals her face

As tattered heart’s words tumble to the carpet

I am complicit: dumb, and blunt and hard

Plumbing a womb of shit and barren darkness

 

Later: scrutinised by bathroom light

Sitting naked with my head in hands

Marooned in a field of arid, empty white

Revealed to be the object that I am

 

Next door: drooling, drunk and stoned and slurring

Maybe, words (I think) she might be crying

Tool and the Descanting of Galileo’s Mathematical Language of God

Posted in Music, Pretensions toward cultural theory with tags , , , , , , , , , on March 15, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

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Galileo said that mathematics is the true language of God. Editions of the Koran, decorated with fields of geometric lines that can be seen in museums all over the Middle East – and the way those designs find their way into the ceilings of Mosques throughout that region – bear Galileo’s dictum out. Continue reading

Tool and the Descanting of Galileo’s Mathematical Language of God

Posted in Music, Pretensions toward cultural theory with tags , , , , , , , , , , on March 10, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

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Nothing locks a reader out of an article like hyperbolae, but it’s a struggle to find any terms other to describe what was experienced at Tool’s most recent Australian shows. Continue reading

Girl in the Rain at the Airport, at Night

Posted in poetry, sonnet with tags , , , on February 27, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

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Headlights blossom across the rainswept screen

As the rain hammers on the roof of the cab

When the rabble parts she’s suddenly seen

Dragging her little suitcase through the pack

 

Her lips, her brows and soundless bell of hair

Are as memory drew them, just the same; but

Her eyes are mercurial ghosts that skim the glare

And glide beneath the dappled shadows of the rain

 

My apprehensive kiss flows into a crude embrace

And the sharp breath through her nose is frustration

As she turns, looks out the window to hide her face

And disappointment corrodes my elation

 

Whether it’s love or courage, I hardly know

But this can only be perfect if I let her go.

Hitler, By Joachim Fest

Posted in Biography, Observation with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on February 18, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

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Now, more than ever, this is a book that needs to be read. Continue reading

Choke (2)

Posted in poetry, sonnet, violence against women with tags , , , on February 2, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

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The sting in my hand from where I’ve struck her

The welt that’s swiftly rising on her thigh

The mark glaring through its suntanned lustre

The bolt of pain that taints her almond eye

 

The sweat that gathers in her dusky creases

The body that’s knotted like a rope

The sigh that’s strangled and abruptly ceases

The chin slick with saliva as she chokes

 

Blinking eyes that swim with sweat that’s searing

Relentless, I drive past lips, teeth and tongue

Her eyes bulge, mascara-smeared and teary

I feel the edge of teeth before I come

 

Gagging, she spits and tears a breath of air

Spent, sated and slaked, I can hardly care.

Choke (1)

Posted in poetry, sonnet, violence against women with tags , , , on January 23, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle

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The sting in my hand from where I’ve struck her 

The welt that’s swiftly rising on her thigh 

The mark that’s glaring through its suntanned lustre 

The bolt of pain that taints her almond eye 

 

The sweat that gathers in dusky creases of 

The body that’s knotted like a rope 

The sigh that’s strangled and abruptly ceases 

The chin slick with saliva as she chokes 

 

Supine, the curtains of her belly part 

And she’s inhaling sharply through her nose 

Relentless, I drive up towards her heart 

While turning like a dragon’s embryo 

 

She gasps, and groans, ‘I feel you everywhere’

So I take hold and pull her silky hair. 

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